the man from down the stairs

noise.

there is a man from down the stairs who

moans the summer through like a hungry w***e

and sits on stools, each in various rooms,

always a different one, and they creak and scream

as he does, and it makes me think of

the line between life and its counterpart

while dust floats up from his open windows and

cakes my lungs and furniture,

and it's all just routine, damned routine...

maybe he's a crazy old man or maybe he's

some unlucky young lawyer, i don't know.

there are no faces anymore, just voices,

but they become muddled and dead and gone

while moths feed on the bloody mess,

and their dusty fluttering keeps me awake on june nights.

i hear it all through these thin walls.

Author's Note

This is what summer does to me. The last line was taken from the song "Fired" by Ben Folds.

Reviews

[Aleyah]

I don't want to repeat myself, but this is equally as fantastic as the others. I love this. Profound, in a simple way. I love the lines,
"always a different one, and they creak and scream
as he does, and it makes me think of
the line between life and its counterpart
while dust floats up from his open windows and
cakes my lungs and furniture,
and it's all just routine, damned routine..."
It's all just astonishing. Awesome, awesome job. :)

[Kenneth The Poet]

Rotting flesh and fading voices, sounds like poetic inspiration to me.